


Not The 8th Grade Play

by LinedItem



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Dean/Cas character bleed, First Kiss, Gag Reels, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Blame Tumblr, Inappropriate Erections, M/M, On Set, Pining, Season 9, Teasing, the Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:45:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LinedItem/pseuds/LinedItem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd been struck by the way Misha looked back at him during the convention panels and the way he apparently looked at Misha (he hadn't known) and some of the nice things they'd both said in videos. That post he’d linked to...that stuff. Laid out that way like it wasn’t a big joke.</p><p>Like it could be real.</p><p>Like maybe Misha felt something, for him. Something more than friendship.  </p><p>...this is the second script he’d defaced with mash notes that nobody would or should ever see. Except now, Jared was laughing his ass off because he thought Jensen was planning <em>to prank Misha with it.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Not The 8th Grade Play

**Author's Note:**

> Real people, made-up scenario. No actual actors were harmed in the making of this fictional fluff bomb.
> 
> For [this prompt](http://spnkink-meme.livejournal.com/79757.html?view=29642893#t29642893) on spnkink_meme.
> 
> "He leaves his copy of his script on set and it's found by someone (Jared, Richard, Jim, Felicia, or any other actor) and they leaf through it distractedly at lunch or whatever and see that Jensen has made little notes and sketches and random doodles in the margins basically professing his crush on Misha."

He’s left his pages -- the entire book for this episode -- behind on set. Jensen heaves a hard breath of annoyance at himself for that. He’s frankly great at remembering lines; _Days_ got him used to that since there were so many freakin’ pages shot daily. If everyone started out in soaps, there’d be a helluva lot fewer flubs for the gag reel, Jensen muses.

But anyway, he doesn’t have this entire ep down cold, so he turns back and heads for the Men of Letters set. It’s drafty this late, and he folds his arms and rubs his biceps. Turning in to what they call the “map table room,” he spies Jared reading and lifts his chin in greeting, and the smile he gets in return is nothing short of maniacal. Or maybe it’s diabolical.

And then Jensen remembers.

See, he draws and writes on things. On everything. There isn’t a piece of paper in his trailer that isn’t covered with words and letters. He does it almost subconsciously, so he’ll pick up the envelope from a royalties notice sometimes and find a zombie version of Kilroy Was Here or witches riding vacuums or some stylized numbers he can’t remember writing. They probably happened when he was on the phone or half-watching TV.

Lately some of his little sketches have taken a kind of...well. They’ve taken a strange turn. It's something that had surfaced every once in a while over the past few seasons. A sort of yearning that had surprised him the first time he'd admitted it to himself. Danneel was amused by it; she was the best. "If you ever get the opportunity..." she'd said, and Jensen had asked her approximately four dozen times if she really meant that. She had. "It's hot, actually," she'd said. "And you're by yourself a lot. It'd make us happy to know you weren't, you know, lonely up there in Van." By us she'd meant Vicki, who'd become her buddy since they'd worked on that other project thing recently.

So Danneel, again, was the best wife in existence, but the pages nestled in Jared’s giant palms? The ones from the read-through at this very table earlier in the afternoon? Not what he would want other anyone else to see. Ever.

_Shit._

“Hey, that’s mine,” Jensen says casually, because it is; he’s sketched DEAN stylistically on the back cover, but Jared rises and holds the script book aloft in classic keepaway fashion.

“I know,” Jared’s still grinning. “Everybody knows about your little habit and your handwriting.”

“Uh huh,” Jensen nods, and pokes Jared in the side to get him to lower his arm. “Gimme.” He might actually be back in 8th grade.

“Dude.”

Mortified at the look on Jared’s face, Jensen swallows quickly and tries to look bored, then grabs again but misses as Jared holds the book tighter. “What?” Jared knowing that Jensen has some kind of ridiculous crush on Misha? Not good. At all. He was in for a world of hurt. His friend would never, ever let this one go.

Ever.

“This is seriously genius. I didn’t know you had this kind of prank in you, even, Jen.”

A pause. “Yeah?” Jensen ventures slowly.

“Man. Yes.” Jared shakes his head and lowers the pages, leafing through. “This is better than what I did with the coins.”

“Huh,” Jensen says.

“Oh god,” Jared snickers. “You drew an actual cock under ‘cockles’.” It’s true. He’d blocked out the letters like gang graffiti. Jared flips pages, and Jensen sees where he’d outlined a sketch of Cas in profile in the trenchcoat, wings up, with a halo. “This is gonna be fucking hilarious.”

“...really??”

“Hell yeah. You have to let me drop this one. Where were you going to leave it? Or were you just going to switch scripts first thing?”

“Uhhh,” Jensen says.

“He’ll be all,” Jared flips through more pages and imitates Misha’s voice. “Oh man, what’s that...line?” He glances at the script and bugs his eyes out comically. “You know he can’t keep a straight face once he gets going. This is a perfect payback for that Tumblr thing he posted on his Twitter. But so much subtler, even though, obviously, so much more effort went into this.”

“Not that much effort.” Though there are probably 20 little sketches and comments in the margins along with actual stage directions he’d added. Jensen digs a hand into his pocket. “But. Right. Yeah, I thought it would throw him out of character.” And that Tumblr thing? Okay, that was evil as all hell, because that got Jensen crawling through that damned fangirl blog website and there were pictures there he couldn’t even remember -- photo ops were so fast they were always a blur, so he’d be signing things that were like, huh, I posed like a sultry tiger? -- and others that he remembered vividly. He'd been struck by the way Misha looked back at him during the convention panels and the way he apparently looked at Misha (he hadn't known) and some of the nice things they'd both said in videos. That post he’d linked to...that stuff. Laid out that way like it wasn’t a big joke.

Like it could be real.

Like maybe Misha felt something for him. Something more than friendship. Even though he was often pranking, he wasn't always pranking. It had played on Jensen’s mind for a while now, and this is the second script he’d defaced with mash notes that nobody would or should ever see.

Except now, Jared was laughing his ass off because he thought Jensen was planning _to prank Misha with it._

He’d lucked out; this could be a lot worse, Jensen thought to himself. He forced a smirk. “Pretty clever, huh?”

“Totally! I never would have thought of this. Good one, Jen.” Jared clapped him on the shoulder. “So, tomorrow morning…”

“Uh, right. Tomorrow.” Jensen says. There is no way in hell he’s actually going to let Misha see the book. “You know, maybe this is a little too mean, actually. We’re on a tight schedule tomorrow.”

“No way!” Jared shook his head. “You always wimp out.” And that’s not fair, because he has fun on set, but it’s true that Jared and Misha’s prank war against each other was rougher than his frequent ad libs to break the others’ concentration. _”You’re my baby daddy,”_ had been one classic. Jensen was proud of that one.

And Jensen thinks he’s a little above the “broomsticks in the balls,” types of gags, if he’s gonna be honest. “I do not.” He makes a grab for the book in Jared’s hands, but Jared’s still leafing through and laughing.

“What the hell, is this poetry?”

“No.” Jensen can’t even remember jotting down verse.

“Yes it is.”

Jensen looks. _Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is playing within me."_ Right. Walt Whitman.” Damned if it wasn’t from Calamus, Walt Whitman’s gayest series of poems. Dammit. Seriously.

“Ha! Misha’s gonna recognize Whitman. You’re a natural at this.”

Jensen shrugs.

“Oh man, here he comes. We’re doing it now.”

Jensen looks up to track Jared’s gaze, and sees Misha in his screaming purple sweater over a gray shirt, heading back their way, pausing to talk with a PA, who gestures at the map table. Of course, he’d forgotten his own book, too. Everyone had abandoned the room for craft after being stuck here for two and a half hours.

“Drop, dude,” Jared hisses, and instinctively Jensen falls to the ground in a pushup pose.

Moving fast, Jared shoves the other scripts onto a chair and perches on them, turning his head down to give Jensen a wink.

Jensen smiles weakly in return. He could just say that the script isn’t ready, that the prank would work better if he adds more stuff, but it’s too late; Misha’s there. Jensen can see his boots on the other side of the map table. “Is it really this cold in here?”

“Yeah, Misha,” Jensen hears Jared say, but his own face is flashing so hot he hasn’t remembered the set was chilly with the lights down since he saw Jared with the book.

“I forgot my…ah,” Misha says as Jensen hears Jared’s shoving the pages across the table at him. “Hey, this isn’t mine.”

“I took yours back to my trailer by mistake, sorry,” Jared shrugs. “I think Jen took mine home. Mark was responsible and cleared out with his own.”

“Cool. Good. Well, have to roll. Early set call.” Misha’s footsteps fade out as he dashes away.

 Jared cackles as Jensen slowly stands up. “But I’m sure he’ll be off his game completely tomorrow.” Just as everyone knows Jensen draws on things, everyone knows Misha is more likely to leave the script in his bag overnight and look over his pages just before each scene being shot in the morning.

“Yep,” Jensen nods, and contemplates whether he can catch Misha before he gets into his car and heads off the lot for home.

+++++

Castiel and Dean have two scenes together in the morning, while Sam/Gadreel has afternoon stuff with Metatron. The call sheet lists the one where Cas appears after Dean prays, for the first time since he’s restored his grace. Well, it’s not _his_ grace, it’s Theo's stolen grace, but whatever.

Not for the first time, Misha wonders how that fits into the mythos. Why hadn’t Castiel just taken Grand Canyon whatsername-angel's grace when she was trying to wipe him out in the first episode of the season? Because Castiel was not the kind of dick angel who ran around ganking other angels for their grace, that’s why. Still, it was a nagging inconsistency.

He scratches idly at his hair and leaned back on the sofa, sticking sock-clad feet on the edge of the coffee table. There was some college ballgame on; the Longhorns, and Misha wonders idly if Jared and Jensen are watching it together. Maybe. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Jensen since coming back after the Thanksgiving break. Eh, he’d connect over makeup in the morning. He'd missed Jensen.

Misha cracks his book and leafs to the start of the scene with the prayer.

 

EXT. -- THE BARN ---THE IMPALA IS PARKED IN THE GRASS OUTSIDE the RED BARN AT THE FARM WHERE THE WHITE BUFFALO WAS BORN.

INT. THE IMPALA. -- DEAN IS BEHIND THE WHEEL.

Lowering his head into his hands, Dean begins to pray.

DEAN: I don’t think this’ll work, but I’ve gotta try.

Misha reads on.

CASTIEL appears in the seat next to DEAN.

 

Misha thinks he’ll place Castiel’s hand over Dean’s clasped ones. Dean doesn’t usually pray like that, but okay. He knows that he’ll let his hand linger there after Dean startles and they start to talk. It’s not in the script, and even though he and Jensen don’t discuss these things beforehand, they both put in the lingering looks and fleeting expressions that are meant to show that they share a “profound bond.” It means deep friendship or it means a celestial connection or it’s...the fangirls are pretty sure it means they want to oil themselves up and fuck each other raw on the hood of the car, but it feels organic so they keep on doing it.

There’s a drawing of Castiel in the margin. With a halo. Misha smiles. He likes Jensen’s little doodling quirk; it shows he’s a little more random than anybody thinks. They're not masterpieces, but they're very creative, and Misha has a little stack of post-its and other little Jensen-scribbles he's kept for one reason or another.

He flips through a few more pages, and his mouth drops open. There are little...Jensen draws on things all the time, but these are all…jeez. Misha drops his head back to the sofa back with a muffled thunk.

He’d thought he’d detected something crafty behind Jared’s smile when he’d handed Misha this particular book. This was probably something Jared had talked Jensen into. Jensen’s pranks usually involved changing a line to make it perverted or hilarious, not anything materially concrete like loading a car with pennies or stealing his phone and posting terrible stuff to the masses or putting lemon Jell-O cubes in the pockets of his trenchcoat (don’t ask.)

Misha leafs through the entire script. Most of the scenes with Dean and Castiel have little notes in the margins, and the sketches. It’s like an 8th grade girl’s notebook, but this is elaborate. He imagines cracking the pages just before a scene and seeing that cock drawing surrounded by tiny shells with COCKLES penciled in next to it. He didn’t think Jensen even knew what "cockles" stood for.

He hadn’t actually apologized over that Twitter thing; he’d begun to, and Jensen had turned red and waved him away, shaking his head.

He’d felt awful. Had he embarrassed Jensen? Misha thought he’d rather be yelled at, even though he hadn’t meant...

Misha sighs, and reading on, can feel a grin stretching his cheeks. Jensen hadn’t gotten mad...he’d gotten even. This is a pretty good prank; he knows if he’d just opened the pages prior to a scene there’s no way he’d be able to play it straight. Jared and Jensen probably hadn’t expected him to come back for his script tonight so he’d be cracking up on set tomorrow seeing these for the first time.

But now he has a better idea.

+++++

The scene cuts and Jensen freezes at the wheel, head down. Misha slides into the car, grateful for the limited warmth of the interior, though he can still see his breath inside. Ugh, winter location shoots. Jared doesn’t even need to be here this early, but Misha sees him in his eyeline, holding a cup in gloved hands and chatting with a crew member. He smirks as he sees Misha’s got his pages in one hand as he gets into the Impala and drops the book on the passenger side floor, but Misha keeps his expression completely neutral. Yeah, okay. This is obviously a set-up. He’s got this. Do not test Misha Collins.

“Sun’s coming up- we need to jump back in for continuity,” the director says, and Misha nods, covering Jensen’s warmer hands with one of his own as he’d planned to improvise. They shake minutely, but Jensen’s a pro, and doesn’t move his head at all. With the angle change, it’ll look like Castiel had materialized instantly after edits.

“And, hit it!” Misha hears, as the clapper strikes.

“Dean,” Misha-as-Castiel intones, tightening his hand as Dean’s head lifts to look at him. “I’m here.”

“Thank God,” Dean whispers.

“Still in absentia,” Castiel says gruffly. He slowly removes his hand from Dean’s on the wheel, and watches as Dean raises one towards him, just a twitch. Nice touch. Dean turns towards him and explains about what he’s seen, telling him about the “miracle,” and Misha senses the camera shooting over his shoulder, focusing on Dean as he talks. Before camera two swings from the front of the Impala to shoot Castiel head on, Misha gives Jensen a heated look, taking a quick, obvious glance at the script on the floor and then back to Jensen.

Jensen promptly flubs his line, and Misha bites back a grin.

“Need to look at the pages, Jensen? I seem to have picked up yours by mistake last night.”

A shout from outside the car: “Cut! Try that again while the light’s good. Back to Castiel’s appearance.”

This time, Misha drags his thumb over Jensen’s knuckles and puts heat into his gaze, Jensen’s breath hitches in the middle of Dean’s line, but he doesn’t mess it up. Misha, of course, doesn’t break character for a second.

“Cut. Print that. Perfect. Okay, set up for them walking into the barn.”

Misha settles back into his seat smugly as the cameras dolly into position from their spots on the flatbeds, keeping his eyes away from the crew, but he can tell Jared’s there, because he’s a giant and stands out.

As the boom mic lifts away, Misha leans into Jensen and breathes into his ear. “I had no idea Dean felt that way about Castiel. Or is it...Jensen?”

Jensen blinks. “C’mon Misha, you know it’s just a--” Prank, he was going to say. He sighs as Misha pulls back and winks at him lasciviously. Mission accomplished. Reverse mindfuck.

“You love me, I know.” Misha grins, and the cameras are rolling again before the sun gets too high. They both slam the Impala’s doors shut and trudge together towards the barn.

+++++

 

INT. BARN. -- DEAN and CASTIEL face one another as the WHITE BUFFALO CALF struggles to its feet in the background. (VFX)  
  


White buffaloes are really rare; one in ten million. This is some kind of cattle-mix hybrid beefalo found by the animal wrangler and it’s kind of a dirty gray, but the VFX team will lighten it in post-prod, make it sort of glow like the symbol of peace it’s supposed to represent. There had been bison imagery this whole season, and Jensen, being a musical sort of guy, kept visualizing that U2 One video.

They’d talked about it in the read-through; the internet would probably complain about Native American appropriation in the episode, but because Jensen didn’t have a Twitter, he’d miss most of that. Still, they were prepared to have it brought up at the next convention. That occasionally happened. It was probably safer to mess with ancient myths.

Berens had pointed out on the conference call that Great White Buffalo is actually a Ted Nugent song, and also a Hot Tub Time Machine reference.

Jensen likes that guy.

They take their places in the barn, and Jensen keeps his eyes away from Misha’s. He knows now that Misha is pranking him back by being as...provocative as possible. This is not good for his blood pressure.

The lights are, thankfully, warm already. The baby bison isn’t around; it’s probably in a cozy trailer being bottle-fed and manicured, and they’ll CGI it in later.

 

DEAN stares at CASTIEL as he ties the story of the Great White Buffalo to the hunters’ quest and the prophecy on the tablet.

DEAN: Peace. I don’t even know what peace feels like anymore.

CASTIEL: Returns DEAN’s steady look.

 

The camera’s on Misha for the cutaway over Dean’s shoulder, so Jensen dips his chin and lifts his gaze, looking at Misha through his lashes. He licks his lips in a cartoonishly sexy way, and sees the muscle of Misha’s jaw jump. He’s gonna crack up any second, Jensen’s pretty sure. A member of the crew lets an unexpected sneeze go and “Cut!” is called for a do-over.

“Hang out for a sec, guys,” the director advises. “We’re going to reposition anyway. I don’t like the shadows.”

Misha drops character and shakes his hands out, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It’s not _that_ warm in here yet. Jensen hears Jared laugh across the barn as he watches the playback, and Jensen shoves his hands in his pockets as Misha snickers. He does feel kind of bad about this. Still, at least Misha (and Jared) think it’s a continuation of the prank.

Jenson actually got away with the sappy scribbles in his script. He's feeling pretty great about that. Excellent, even.

“Hey, Jen,” Misha leans to hiss in his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Quit turning me on. I’m hard as a rock.”

“PLACES!” Shouts the director, and Jensen swallows thickly. His own dick’s filling, and he tugs on his jeans, which Misha doesn’t miss, of course. He glances at Jared, but he’s got his face in a warm croissant and he’s chewing messily, talking with Linda on the crew.

“Asshole,” Jensen mutters, not sure who he’s really aiming that one at. Mostly himself for being so fucking careless.

“Walt Whitman though, really?” Misha whispers, warm breath tickling at Jensen’s ear again. “I would have gone with Among the Multitude. ‘Secret and divine signs...ah, lover and perfect equal.’”

Jensen jumps a little and his eyes go to Misha’s face, but he’s looking totally serious. “Yeah, um, laid that on on a little thick. I...I blame Jared.”

“Mmmhmm,” Misha hums, and they take their places again. Everything goes off without a hitch.

Even the staring. Especially the staring.

“Good work!” The director tells them.

+++++

“Well, I have to give you credit, Misha,” Jared’s laughing, clapping him on the back as they trudge towards the SUV taking them back to the set proper. “I thought you’d lose it.”

“Nope,” Misha says. “I had your number last night when I did prep. I _do_ do prep for my scenes the night before, Bullwinkle.”

“You’d never know. Still.” Jared shakes his head. “I was totally impressed by Jensen’s artwork. I don’t think he was even gonna tell me until after the day’s shooting wrapped, but I found the script, so he had to.”

“Yeah,” Jensen coughs into his fist. “You uh, you blew the surprise, man. The joke was supposed to be on you, too.”

“Shotgun!” Jared says when they get to the doors, because they are, in fact, in 8th grade.

Misha elbows Jensen and smiles as he follows him into the back of the blissfully toasty vehicle, but they’re silent on the ride back to set. Jared doesn’t notice; he’s chatting to Clif about last night’s game.

Jensen sees Misha’s fingers wrapped tight around the rolled book as his knee jogs against his on the bumps as they head back on the back road. When the SUV rolls to a stop, Jensen’s out of there like a shot and back to his trailer.

+++++

Jensen shuts the door and leans back against it. He’s sporting a raging boner and first order of business is to knock it down so he can focus; the next scene’s half an hour off because they’re making up holiday time and cramming a lot into the day. His hands are still a little numb from the temperature changes but hey, maybe it’ll feel like someone else’s hand.

Maybe it’ll feel like Misha’s.

Jensen groans as he unzips his fly and digs into his boxers, beginning to stroke as he sinks into the chair.

And then, a knock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. Louder: “Yeah?”

“Jensen, it’s Misha.”

Oh. Fantastic. This is great. Jensen winces as he hurriedly tucks his hard cock back into his pants and edges the zipper up. “Come in.” He shifts to lean forward, elbows on his knees, as Misha enters.

“I want to keep this, because it’s awesome, but you have your regular scene notes in the margins too, so I thought maybe you wanted to take a look at it before we shoot.”

“Sure,” Jensen says, voice rough. “I uh, I thought about the prank after I’d already marked up my dialogue.”

Misha looks thoughtful and rubs one arm through the trenchcoat. “Guess you didn’t think that through.”

“No,” Jensen agrees, forcing a smile. “It was...spur of the moment.” He watches Misha’s eyes travel over him, making him feel a little...oh, and of course he’s been in his trailer for two minutes and he’s already sweating, while Misha stands there, still shivering. “You want coffee? It’s mud, though.” The pot lights still on and it’s probably sludgy by now. “I mean, have a seat, it’s cold out there.”

He really doesn’t want to stand up. “Cups are in the cabinet over the coffeemaker.” Misha looks at him gratefully. He's a tea man, but he'll do coffee if the mood or the cold strikes, Jensen's noticed.

“Thanks, don’t mind if I do.”

Crap. Normally he’d love Misha hanging out in his trailer, but he’s still got a hard-on, and it’s not helping. He supposes he can excuse himself and hit the tiny bathroom for a few minutes before they go to the soundstage, if he can’t get this boner down. For real, this is like middle school. Only worse, because his friends back then would be empathetic instead of making the most of a prime teasing opportunity. These guys? Have no mercy.

Misha hands him a mug and Jensen shifts in the chair, pulling down his shirt and hoping that escapes Misha’s notice.

“So, like I was saying,” Misha says, “I can keep this when we’re finished?” He indicates the script.

“Uh,” Jensen says, intelligently. “Sure. I mean, are you going to put it on Twitter? If you haven’t already on the walk over?”

“No. I mean...” Misha pauses, both hands gripping the mug. “I haven’t. And about that other thing.”

“Other...thing,” Jensen echoes.

“Yeah, the link I posted on Twitter, to all of that stuff about us. I uh, I didn’t apologize for that before. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s--”

“I deserve to get pranked back over that. I’m glad you went easy on me.” Misha gives him a small smile. “Because I felt guilty; you’re not online like me and Mooselo, so it’s not really fair for me to give you crap there where you can’t respond.”

“It’s okay. I actually got a kick out of it.”

Misha looks relieved, and huffs a laugh before sipping his coffee. It’s a little chunky, Jensen realizes as he takes his own sip, but Misha doesn’t say anything.

“I mean,” Jensen continues. “Fans take a lot of stuff out of context, right?”

“Well, you did give me a ring.”

Jensen shrugs. Misha had admired his ring. He hadn’t really thought it would look odd if he got Misha a duplicate, they were buds. But in retrospect…

“I didn’t know they’d asked you how I kiss.”

Misha’s lip twists. “That actually took me aback. They were asking Alona.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jensen shifts a thigh. This conversation wasn’t really helping his stiff dick situation.

“Because if I really knew what your mouth tasted like, I wouldn’t be sharing that information with the fans. You do know that, right?”

Taken aback, Jensen looks at Misha’s face, and damned if he’s not serious again.

“Misha,” he says, and he’s gonna say " _cut it out, man,_ " but he can’t swallow all of a sudden, because Misha’s out of his chair and taking the coffee out of Jensen’s hands.

“I actually do want to know. That.” Misha’s face is suddenly very close. “Will you let me find out? I can keep a secret, when it counts, Jensen.”

His heart’s beating so fast and so loud, Jensen’s certain Misha can hear it, this close.

He continues, voice low, eyes turning to deep midnight as he murmurs into Jensen’s space: “Just like I’m not going to tell Jared that I know you weren’t planning on showing anybody what’s in that book.”

Jensen’s eyes go wide and he can’t breathe. Misha knows. How could he know?

“Huh. You really weren’t,” Misha says, looking a little dazed.

Lucky guess, then. Which he’d just confirmed by his reaction. Good acting, Jen, he told himself. Excellent work. Fuck.

A loud bang at the door -- clearly the slap of a hand. “Fifteen minutes, Jensen!” calls a PA.

“Okay!” he calls back, voice hoarse.

“So, can I?”

“Can you what?” Jensen asks.

“We have...” Misha crouches lower in front of his chair. “...fifteen minutes. Are you going to let me find out what you taste like?”

Jensen leans into the shared space. “Not if it goes on Twitter.”

Misha tilts his head. “What if it stays in this trailer?”

“Well get on with it, th--” Jensen’s reply is cut off with the press of lips, soft and warm. He’d thought maybe Misha would pin him, push him into the chair back, but he’s kissing Jensen gentle and sweet, tilting his head a little, a hand rising to wrap his neck, thumb smoothing over the ridge of his jaw. Jensen relaxes into it and lets his lips fall open, prises his own tongue along the seam of Misha’s, dips in, hot and wet. The kiss deepens for a second or two, and then tapers off, and Misha pulls back for a moment before pressing another kiss to the side of his lips, licking a bit. He settles back on his heels, palm against the side of Jensen's neck.

“So now I know,” Misha whispers, and Jensen can’t speak. “Hmm. I’d kiss you a little harder, better, more...you know, passionately, but…” Misha gestures, then drops his hand to circle Jensen’s wrist. “Our makeup.”

“Yeah,” Jensen breathes, finally.

“But you’re a very nice kisser. High quality. I would have only hypothetically good things to say if asked that again at a convention.”

“Thanks. You too,” Jensen manages. His mouth’s rapidly going dry, so he grabs for his cooling coffee.

“I mean, should Dean and Castiel ever kiss.” Misha smiles. “Which is probably unlikely.”

“Unless it’s on a gag reel or something,” Jensen muses.

Misha bites his lip. “Yeah, something like that.” He breathes out and stands, letting Jensen’s wrist go with what seems like reluctance. “I’ll uh, just, I’m gonna head to set.”

Jensen nods, and watches Misha go. After the door shuts behind him, he unzips his fly, fast as lightning. He’s surprised the strain hadn’t ripped through the front of his jeans.

+++++

Misha glances at Jensen as he strides onto the soundstage. He hands Misha the script. “Here, I glanced at my part.”

“Bet you did more than glance at it,” Misha raises a brow, and Jensen colors immediately. A gleeful look blooms on Misha’s face, but It disappears quickly , and Jensen realizes Jared is behind him.

“So, you guys ready for more soulful glaring?” Jared jokes, “Ha. _Cockles_.”

Jensen rolls his eyes as Misha snickers. “Yeah. Right, Jare.”

 

They’re actors, after all.

+++++

Misha is beside himself. No, actually, the word is giddy.

First off, these facts: Jensen had scribbled adorable things all over his script. He’d never characterize them as “adorable” to Jensen, unless that made him flush again, which was...it was adorable. Jensen had also let Misha suck his face in the trailer. And third, he’d apparently rubbed one out the second Misha had left, which was an incredible turn-on.

This might be his best on-set day in history.

All of this could have meant Misha was primed to screw up his scenes, distracted, but nope, he’d gone over his lines with extra fervor last night since he’d been determined not to crack. The proof was obvious; they’d blocked the scene and then did a quick run-through, and both he and Jensen were hitting all of their marks perfectly. And Jared had wandered off; apparently he was being a good sport despite the “prank” not working out, and being considerate of the timeline too, he wasn’t trying to break them out of character.

This was a very good thing, because Misha really didn’t need Jared’s foot or a golf club jostling his nuggets today. Thank all gods above for the trenchcoat.

In the scene, Dean is to hear of the death of the White Buffalo, which somehow symbolizes Sam’s peace, or something. Sam’s still Gadreel, and they don’t know if he’s alive in the vessel or not, but they know he’s being used by Metatron in the angel war. It’s a little convoluted. Anyhow, Dean is supposed to fall to his knees in despair, and Castiel will reach out and pull him up, grab his shoulders, and tell him he needs to stay strong.

 

CASTIEL: Strength, Dean. I know your reserves are...remarkable.

DEAN: I’m done, Cas. Ought to sit back and let the angels fight this one out. Because I’m done. Done with the world, man.

CASTIEL: You’re far from done, Dean. Believe me. Far from it.

FADE TO BLACK. END CREDITS.

 

The scene goes perfectly on their end, but the director calls for another take. This time, Misha slides a hand around the nape of Jensen's neck, directing his face towards his own, and stares into his eyes. He can feel Jensen practically read his mind before he leans forward and they start kissing, passionately, clasping each other, moaning, and Misha finally bends a leg back at the knee like an ingenue in a 1940s movie.

Those on set hoot and applaud at the cut call, and Jensen starts cracking up. “Jared is gonna fuckin' cry when he finds out he missed that.”

“No joke,” says the director. “That was classic. It’s going on the gag reel in slo-mo, with, I don’t know, porn music playing.”

“Nah,” Jensen says, breathless, curled fingers to his lips. His eyes are dancing. “One, by U2. You know that video with the bison.”

“That, and then that stock shot of a train going into a tunnel!” Misha exclaims. “And rockets launching from Cape Canaveral.”

“Ha!” Jensen says, grinning.

"Well," the director says, "This is the CW, so if we blow the budget on U2 we'll probably stay away from the copyright footage and just stick to demons being stabbed."

"That's symbolic though, right?" Misha asks. "Like, Freudian. All of that...thrusting and everything."

Jensen snorts.

+++++

There’s lunch, there’s the Gadreel/Metatron scenes, and then there's Jensen gurning alternatively terrifying and derpish faces out of shot at both Curtis and Jared, who are completely losing it despite the scene being incredibly serious and grave. Still, they’re ahead of schedule for the day.

Misha gives Jensen a wink as he heads out to wardrobe to change back into street clothes (and beat off, because let's face it, he's been in a state of arousal since last night when he'd cracked the book. Okay. Lie. He's been in a state of arousal since he met Jensen Ackles and they stepped into their characters' shoes for the first time. Long term crush.) He’s recovered and sitting in his trailer tweeting about something random and unrelated to Supernatural when there’s a knock and then there’s Jensen.

“You forgot it, this time,” Jensen says, waving the script full of sketches and notes and cartoon bubbles.

“Oh god, thank you,” Misha says, turning off his phone. “You’re finished?” Clearly Jensen is, because he’s in his own jeans and a hooded sweatshirt and his makeup’s gone.

“Yeah. So...yeah,” Jensen says, but Misha motions at him to come closer.

“You okay, with…”

“With?” Jensen asks, and he looks a little nervous to Misha, but not bad-nervous. Just...you know, like he’s not sure.

Misha will have to show him that he can be.

“With this,” Misha says, sliding both hands to Jensen’s waist. There’s a brief pause before Jensen’s own arms wrap around Misha in return and he tilts his head, looking back at him with fond regard.

“I think that’s written all over my face, isn’t it?” Jensen says softly.

“All over your script, more like.”

“Well, yeah. And that.”

“ _And_ that,” Misha agrees, before he captures Jensen’s mouth for the third time that day.

 

Tomorrow’s gonna be a good day, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and comments are loved a lot - let me know what you think?


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